Perfect Illusions
by remy7marie
Summary: Rogan. She knew that in the morning, like the night, he would be gone, but for now, she let him in her life, and her bed, and allowed him to just hold her until the sun came.
1. What's Another Day

**A/N: ah, another story. crap. i shouldnt, but i went out of town and this was in my head the WHOLE time. so i just got home an hour ago, and it was the first thing i did. im not sure how long itll be or how itll end, but im kind of excited about this one. if i write another chapter, ill probably explain more, because hopefully ill have a better idea of where exactly i'm going with it. but tell me what you think so far. enjoy and review.**

chapter one

He moved discreetly from the shadows as she closed the door to her flat behind her. "You're home late," he said.

She jumped, looking up from the table where she was setting her keys, her eyes searching the dark to find him, seeing his silhouette by the window.

"How did you get in?" she asked, not bothering to turn on a light, even though she had dropped her groceries and dark settings usually did not end well for them.

"You should have moved that key from above your door."

"Logan," she warned, not in the mood.

He smirked at her distress, then frowned as he saw her apparel. A silk black halter dress and a pair of heels. "You went out," he stated.

"How do you know?"

"You don't wear that to work. And you reek of smoke." Her eyes darted elsewhere but his face. "Did he kiss you like I do?"

She shrugged. "No one does."

She was right, and they both knew it. This wasn't the first time that he had shown up here unannounced. They had met once, at a bar, and with one night spent in The Ritz, the rest was history.

It seemed they fit best into each other's lives at night. So, instead of having a steady, normal person relationship, they had nights together. Nine hours two, maybe three times a week, the only nine hours that was ever real to either of them.

They never told each other how important these nights had come to be.

He walked to where she was standing in front of the locked door and she saw he was still in his work clothes. Expensive, pressed suit. Expensive shoes, expensive everything.

She ran a hand down his jaw line, a feather light touch, one he had come to love and wait for on these nights with her.

"Long day?" she asked softly. He breathed in her vanilla scent, still discernible over the faint smell of cigarettes.

"Where did you meet him?" Another step closer, his lips dancing on her cheekbone.

"Who?" she breathed. It was the right answer; the inability to remember. He captured her lips in a less than chaste kiss, pushing her against the door.

He had known today that he was going to come to her place tonight. A single phone call from his father that pissed him off, and he knew he needed her, her touch, her reassurance of stability in at least one aspect of his world. As he thought about it during his three hour newspaper meeting with his employees, he couldn't figure out which part of his life she had molded herself in.

"Logan," she sighed, "I have ice cream in those bags." She pointed to the brown paper sacks on the floor.

He stepped back and smirked while she bent down and put the groceries back in the bag they had fallen out of. She plopped one back into his arms and she picked up the other and led them to her kitchen.

Before they reached the kitchen she slipped out of her heels, arching her feet to relieve them of the aches of the day, a habit he noted she had. It was something she had almost always done whenever he had come over. Except, for the times when he was relieving the stress in…other ways.

"Must have been some date if you had to stop by and pick up food on the way home," he said, pulling bread out of a bag.

She took the ice cream out of the bag and jumped up on the counter, grabbing a spoon from the drawer next to her. She shrugged, "It was fine. A typical, sucky date."

"That's why you should stick with me." He said it before he realized what he had said, but she kept eating her ice cream without missing a beat.

"When? When you decide I'm worthy of your time?" she asked in a calm voice.

"Rory…"

"Or when you need a good fuck to make you forget about Daddy and the big bad newspaper. I've been told, by you, I might add, that's what I'm good for."

"I was drunk that night, Rory."

This wasn't how either wanted the night to go, but he should have known not to get her started. She was too stubborn to let anything slip past and he was too stubborn to not put up an argument. They made one hell of an couple.

"Whatever," she said, jumping down from the counter. "You know where the door is. Leave any time."

She threw the carton of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream in the freezer, attempting to walk past him. His arm caught her wrist and pulled her to him, crashing her lips to his. Despite just eating ice cream, she was on fire, and when he pushed her against the refrigerator, she didn't feel the cold.

She tugged on his shirt, and took him to her bedroom. She let him have her, allowing the things that were just said to slip away, to just forget for one more night about their stupid arrangement.

She knew that in the morning, like the night, he would be gone, but for now, she let him in her life, and her bed, and allowed him to just hold her until the sun came.


	2. Better Than Nothing

A/N: mer,sorry for the wait. but thank you thank you thank you for the reviews. anyways, school started and i already had a math tutor (one week - not a good start eh?) and i wrote this while listening to the local-but-getting-popular band tilly and the wall! whee. um..this one ended up odd, i dont know how much i like it. but tell me what you think. enjoy and review.

chapter two

She felt the bed move, the springs flex beneath her. She opened her eyes and tried to become accustomed to the dark; she was awake, in fact, she hadn't slept a wink at all. She kept replaying their conversation in her kitchen from hours ago.

"You're leaving?" she asked quietly, not even trying to hide the disappointment or the annoyance from her voice.

He turned from his spot by the window, where he was standing looking outside to the New York night. "Yeah, it's late."

She snorted and sat up, pulling the sheet up to her chest. "Should I be paying you for this or something?"

He looked away from her at the harshness of her voice and remained silent. "Fine. Just go, then."

"Rory," he sighed, shoving his hands in his slacks pockets. He had found his boxers and pants, his undershirt was another story. He moved to sit next to her on her side of the bed.

_Her side_, almost like they had a routine, a domestic lifestyle that they were accustomed to. He brushed her bangs out of her eyes, his hand trailed down her jawbone. She turned away from his touch, and he gripped her chin to make her face him. "Can I call you later?"

She shrugged. "I might be busy."

"Can I see you tonight?"

"I might be busy," she repeated.

"God, how did it get like this?" he asked, seriously questioning this predicament they were in. They both refused to look to far into this, not too mention too far down the line with it. They both loved these nights together, and every night, it killed him a little more to leave her.

He had fallen in love with her and she didn't care. Hell, she was going on other dates.

"Forget I asked," he said, "I'm going out tonight."

He stood from the bed, leaving the space next to her cold and she pulled the sheet closer. He found his shirt fallen by her vanity table and picked it up, pulled it on, and haphazardly buttoned a few buttons. "If you find my undershirt, just throw it away. I have more," he told her quickly, giving her no other choice but to nod.

He kissed her cheek briskly, something he always did before he left, whether he was frustrated with her or not.

"They won't give up what I have to spend one night with you," she whispered to his back, so soft he almost missed it. He turned back to look at her and she was staring right at him. "They won't realize you're gone before it's too late."

---------

He walked up the stairs to her apartment complex. Someone was moving and people coming up and down the elevator were not only pissing him off, but slowing down the elevator.

He knocked on the door, knowing that even in the mid-afternoon she would be home. Today was Friday, and she always took Friday off. "It's half my company and it's a 'Rory' day," she told him, probably several months ago.

He was surprised to see the find the door open, and when he knocked, it pushed it open further and he stepped inside. His brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of cardboard boxes, packing tape, and covered furniture. Did he walk into someone else's apartment?

"Rory?" he called out.

She stepped out of the bedroom, on the phone with someone, and held up her finger to motion one minute.

It had been a while since he had actually seen her in the daylight, most of their visits reserved for the night hours, but he forgot how the night hid her simple beauty. Even now, clad in jeans and a cardigan, her delicate feet poking out from the hem, and the sleeves rolled up to reveal a small gold chain bracelet, and her hair pulled up in some form of a bun that he didn't know how to name, she looked perfect.

God, he sounded so sappy.

Her laughter rang out in the semi-empty apartment as a girl came in to take another box, then stopped, as she saw Rory on the phone.

She came up behind Rory and snatched the phone away from her ear and pushed the off button.

"Paris!" she whined.

"No, Gilmore. I took took time off work to help you move and you're on the phone!"

"It was my mom! Besides, it's our company! We can take time off whenever we want!

"I don't care! I like working! And Lorelai has Luke! She'll be fine for a few hours! And who the hell is he!" she ranted.

Rory waved her hand nonchalantly and sighed. "Paris, go get food."

"I'm not your maid."

"Paris, go."

She looked at Logan and pointed a finger at him, "You hurt her, you die. Capische?"

He nodded dumbly, and she left, grumbling under her breath.

Rory walked around him to some half-packed boxes and started cramming books and picture frames inside them.

"You're moving?" he asked, following her.

"Mhmm."

"Will you at least look at me?" She turned her gaze hesitantly to him, and he smirked.

"How long has this been planned?"

"A few weeks," she said, shrugging. "It was dark and you missed the boxes last night."

"A few weeks? Why didn't you tell me, I could have helped you."

"I was going to ask last night, but you said you were going out." She sat down on the floor against the plastic-wrapped couch.

"So you were really going to be busy?"

She nodded. "So where are you moving?"

"Oh, a Brownstone a few blocks away. It's closer to the firm."

"A Brownstone?"

She smiled and nodded. "I've always wanted to live in one for a little while, and now that the PR firm is doing better, I've actually had a steady enough paycheck to rent one."

She looked back at him, "What are you doing here?"

"I took today off, too."

"So I see," she said, motioning to his designer (of course) jeans and black tee.

"And I wanted to apologize."

"Apology accepted."

"And ask you out to dinner, but I see you're a little busy."

"Well, I can let Paris leave and you can help me finish."

He nodded as she found the phone Paris had taken to call her friend.

Well, he didn't know what he just did and what would happen, but hopefully it was a step in the right direction.


	3. Tomorrow Will Bring Better Days

A/N: yay! a quick update. and thank you so much for the reviews. i love the feedback. so i wrote this one pretty fast compared to the other ones. i think its because im back in school, i sort of just want to write more to improve, and the avoiding homework factor always helps (like right now, im avoiding studying for a spanish quiz i have next block). but anyways, this chapter gives more of a background and its a semi-cliffhanger, maybe, im not quite sure. so the next chapter will be a talk and maybe some sort of a confrontation of some sort. i also added a little twist towards the end. :-) tell me what you think. enjoy and review.

chapter three

She grumbled in her roll desk chair, sliding the chair off the plastic mat on the carpet, causing her chair to tilt. "God!" she yelled exasperated, thankful for the walls and closed blinds surrounding her posh office. What else could you expect for the head of the company.

Rory and her best friend, Paris Gellar started a PR firm in the business district of New York City, and after a few struggling years, they broke through the roof and now emerged as one of the top firms in the business of public relations. With a degree in journalism and news broadcasting with only a minor in public relations from Yale didn't exactly entail this, Rory ended up loving her job and the people she worked with.

However, starting this company also meaning she had to leave home, Stars Hollow to move to New York, which was daunting at first. Now she talked to her mother frequently and had multiple close friends in New York, including Paris and Logan.

Was Logan even considered her friend or something else?

She all but growled when her secretary, Anita, knocked on her door and poked her head through. "Um, Mr. Huntzberger is on the phone, Ms. Gilmore. On line two," she added.

Rory, too fed up with people for the day, waved her hand at Anita and picked up her phone, pressing the Line 2 button. "What?" she said, her voice snappy.

"Wow, you're still at work. And here I thought you didn't stay a minute past six every night."

"What do you want? I'm not in the mood."

"So I can tell. Does this mean you don't want Chinese food?" he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "You can't stay at the office forever."

She smiled at his concern. "Aw, thanks for the thought. But it's only eight o'clock. I've got about four hours to go here." She looked down at the file in front of her. Some new restaurant that was some blue-blooded family who was just spending some inheritance money on a "new swank dining experience". And who did they go to for their advertising?

"Come on, leave it alone for the night! Go in early tomorrow and work then," he tried to persuade her.

"Because I know I won't get here early. Someone, meaning you, will end up keeping me up all night if I leave now to eat with you."

She could hear the smirk in his voice as he talked next, "You say it like you don't enjoy it."

"Logan, I can't. You'll just have to find some other girl to eat with. Which I'm sure won't be hard to do."

His jaw clenched. She didn't realize he just wanted to eat with her. He only wanted to do things with her, any thing, for that matter. He pushed these thoughts that reminded him of a lovesick teenage boy and acted like it didn't bother him.

"So I'm just supposed to sit in your kitchen by myself all night long while you slave away at the office? Shouldn't this be switched around?"

"Sexist pig!" she cried out, smiling.

He laughed, "Honey, come home," he said mockingly.

She ignored him, "How and why are you in my kitchen?"

"I myself put down that turtle by your front door, and frankly, I'm offended you don't remember."

"Well, I'm sure your ego can take this."

"Seriously, Ace," his nickname for her, something she had almost, just almost gotten used to. His voice had lost all its joking mannerisms and she frowned at the seriousness in his tone. "You can't stay there all night."

She sighed, glancing down at the file in front of her. She slid the contents inside and softly dropped the cover down, closing it. She stuck it in between her computer screen and the computer for her to see first thing tomorrow morning, whatever time she happened to come in. She smiled at the thought of where she was going after this.

He listened to her rustling over the phone and knew he had won. She was coming home. _Home._ They were both silent on the phone, replaying the conversation they had just had. It was like they were a real couple, arguing about petty things and getting dinner. Something had changed in the past few weeks and both had noticed. They were no longer just nighttime lovers, but more friends, on the cusp, hell, practically plunging to the center, of something more, something better.

"I'll be there soon," she said quietly, placing the phone in the receiver, knowing he was smirking at his victory.

-------

She closed the front door softly behind her, dropping her bag by the entrance to the kitchen as she made her way there. Sure enough, there he was, smirking, reading her late edition of the morning paper she had yet to read.

He looked up and she smiled softly in the doorway. "Honey, I'm home."

"The food'll be here soon," he told her.

"I thought you already had it."

"I wasn't going to get all that food just to find out that you wouldn't come home and then go out with a girl who eats a stick of celery for dinner."

She rolled her eyes as she stepped into the kitchen. He took in her work appearance; a black pencil skirt, a similar style he knew she had in probably fifteen million other colors but they all looked amazing on her, and a white long sleeve Oxford blouse unbuttoned modestly to her lower chest with a small diamond pendent dangling from a silver chain around her neck. Her heels were already off and her purse dropped with her work bag.

"Rough day?" he asked, reveling in the simple, but incredibly sexy business look she had.

She laughed, sitting next to him at the small kitchen table, "You have no idea."

"I'm sure mine was worse."

It was true. Being the heir to the Huntzerger Media throne was no easy task. He was constant flitting from one newspaper to another, checking up and doing evaluations of the work, although he usually stayed in New York. He occasionally wrote the article when it was requested or asked, or if he just felt in the mood, but overall, this wasn't what he wanted to do. Sure, he loved writing, he just wanted to be able to do it his own way.

She smirked, "Let's hear it."

"Three reporters ended up investigating a false story, and printed them all off and distributed them only to have the family call, pissed off, wanting to talk to me about the integrity of my workers. Then a call from dear ol' dad which made the hellish morning complete. A three hour staff meeting and then waiting at your house for an hour to realize that you might not be home for a while, and then arguing with you, a must have for the sake of every day routine."

"Hm, I think we may be tied. Let's see, I overslept and was late, which had my morning consist of Paris ranting about how I don't take this seriously. Not very fun. Then someone came and specifically asked me to do the publicity of their restaurant so that will mean I'll have to go out of the office every day until this is done. Then I got behind on the paperwork for three other clients, and then you called, thus pissing me off more and making me more behind, and now I'll have to go in early tomorrow before I even go to Realidades. Why is it Spanish anyways?"

Logan smirked. He knew he was getting himself way over his head with this. His best friend, Finn Morgan was opening that restaurant, and Logan had convinced him to hire G & G to do the PR, and more specifically, Rory to do the work. He was hoping since he was going to be part ownership of the restaurant with Finn – Finn's idea, not his – he could maybe see her more than just those nights during the week.

She looked up when the doorbell rang and grabbed money from her purse before Logan could even move.

"Hey, this is supposed to be my gift to you," he called as she made her way to the door.

"Well, you do know the way to a Gilmore's heart," she yelled back. She came back carrying the bags of Chinese food.

As she sat down she looked down at the cartons of food.

"I think we should talk."


	4. Piece by Piece

chapter four

He stared at her blankly as she sat across from him at the table, avoiding his eyes. He heard her words, understood that she wanted to talk, but he didn't want to get into another fight, which he knew this was leading to.

"Were we not just talking?" he asked, evading the real meaning in her statement.

She sighed, "Logan! You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he said quietly, "I know. I just didn't think this would come up so soon."

"How long did you think we'd do this? It's been almost six months. Jesus, we're almost twenty-seven years old, Logan! We're too old for these friends with benefits relationships." During her rant she had stood up and went to the center island of the kitchen.

"You think I don't know that? My mom is still trying to marry me off to twenty year olds; she thinks I'm so commitment phobic, for Christ's sake."

Rory laughed, "You are."

"No, Rory, you are." He stood up and moved to stand in front of her, pushing her back into the ceramic counter, trapping her from going anywhere. Her cheeks flushed with anger.

"Excuse me? I am? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, actually, I'm not. Why is it I always come to your place?"

"I-I don't want to get in your way. You're busy," she stammered.

"No, you know you're not in my way, Rory," his voice almost like he was talking to a child.

"You're always the one to call the shots, Logan. You decide when you want me or a good fuck. I'm just…" she searched for the word, "there."

He stepped in closer, "You mean those nights meant nothing?" His voice was hot on her ear and she locked her wide eyes with his.

She couldn't lie to him; she was never good at lying. And to tell him the truth would be even worse. It would be admitting everything that they had was real. It was something that could not be done.

She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away roughly, but he caught her wrists and pulled her back against him. "Why are you so afraid of this?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not afraid," she managed. "I'm just being logical."

"Cynical," he corrected. "You don't think it could be anything more than this. A few nights a week and the occasional dinner here and there, which judging by tonight, I have to beg you for."

"I was working, Logan. I don't call you during your work day and make you come home for lunch."

"Oh, and you've always worked until eight?" He voiced some of his thoughts that had been going through his mind while he waited for her. "Were you avoiding me?"

She looked over his shoulder, anywhere but his face. He pulled on her wrists slightly to bring her attention back to him and she looked him resolutely in the eyes, "Yes."

So she chose the alternate route, which would probably end in an all around last sucky twenty-four hours. He stepped back slightly and she moved around him back to the table.

"What do you mean 'yes'?" he asked.

"I think you're familiar with what the word 'yes' means, Logan." She was scooping kung pao chicken out of a carton and onto a plate.

He sank in the chair next to her. She offered him the carton and he shook his head. She shrugged indifferently and grabbed a plastic fork from the bag the restaurant had given them.

"Can I have an explanation of what you mean?" he asked, looking at her.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Well, I won't force you, but I won't be the one calling the shots if you don't. I want to know why I need to be avoided. Am I that repulsive to you?"

"An ultimatum?" She looked at him in shock.

"It shouldn't make that much of a difference to you because apparently, you and I have very different interpretations of our relationship. Yours being the more 'practical'," he used air quotes, "and mine being the illogical one." His voice had taken on a bitter tone and she looked away.

She held up her hand to stop him, "Stop right there. I never said what I thought our relationship was. And I certainly didn't call what you thought illogical. Who am I to judge your thoughts?"

"Why can't you just let this happen?" he asked, pleading with her. Yes, if he went back and saw his life in a movie, and this scene popped up, he would probably kick his own ass.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and he switched from pleading to concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Just a little headache," she said quietly. "Can we finish this tomorrow? I think I'm just going to go watch TV."

"Yeah, that's a good idea." He took her hand and led her to the living room, where there were still half empty boxes by the bookshelves and under end tables. He lay down on the couch and pulled her on top of him, so they were both laying vertical, her head resting on his chest, her small hands balling the fabric of his shirt in her fists. He picked the remote up off the glass table in front of the couch and flipped on the TV.

She fell asleep almost immediately to the sound of his heartbeat, still in her work clothes, completely exhausted from the day and he fell asleep not long after, basking in the feeling of laying with her, his arm wrapped around her waist, and ready to patiently wait for her to finally realize what he already knew.

--------

She woke up, under her warm down comforter in her own bedroom. Sometime during the night he must have moved her upstairs to her room. She rolled to her side, only to find the other half of the bed empty, the sheets still smooth and had no trace of being slept in.

She picked up the cordless phone next to her and punched his cell number digits. She got his answering machine; it was only six o'clock in the morning. "Why can't I just let this happen, Logan?" she asked, repeating his question from the night before. "Why do you always leave me alone when I don't want to be alone?"

Her voice fell to a whisper as she told him the biggest lie, "Those nights meant nothing."


	5. Will You Miss Me Ever

A/N: thanks for the reviews! i cant believe i actually wrote another chapter..and i havent even started homework. oh well. anyways, i made a blog thing, and the link is in my profile, so if you want updates on different stories and such, you can go there. anyways, this is the new chapter so tell me what you think. enjoy and review.

chapter five

She showed up at Realidades, the new restaurant she was doing work for at nine o'clock sharp, in another pencil skirt, brown this time, and an off-white boat neck sweater, looking sophisticated but still somewhat laid back, something this guy, Finn Morgan, was known for.

"Ah, Miss Gilmore, love, you're early," Finn told her as he walked to her, lifting her hand and kissing the back.

She couldn't help but smile, "Hi, Mr. Morgan, this is quite the place you have here."

And it was amazing. Booths lined the back walls, with a dark brown paint and a light trim with low lights, giving it a romantic feeling and a small dance floor in the center with a stage for bands and a DJ. A club and a restaurant.

"Thanks, doll. My business partner and I like it," he said, smirking. He had to admit, when Logan first told him of this plan, he almost laughed until he cried. Then as Logan talked more about her, Finn knew he had to meet her for himself and inevitably, if this girl was as much as he was told she was, Logan and she could maybe be happy together.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he should be here any moment. He likes to keep us all waiting."

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen, Finn," a voice came from behind them. A familiar voice.

She was sure her jaw hit the floor as the blonde haired, current bane of her existence walked into the room, in all his business suit glory. She hadn't seen or talked to him since her angry message two weeks ago. Finn had called that morning and told her he and his partner were unavailable to make it for some personal issues, and they had rescheduled, much to Rory's delight.

"Hey, Ace," Logan said, smirking. He still felt guilty after hearing her message, and had to admit that she was right. He was just as commitment avoiding as she was. He didn't know why he always left before she awoke, but it just seemed right. He didn't want their relationship to be another one night stand, so it was like if she never saw him leave, they would never say goodbye, making it easier to just pick up where they left off for the next time.

"Logan," she said curtly, once she had regained her composure.

Finn just stood between the two, smirking like an idiot, wondering when the two idiots before him would figure it out. Finn felt a vibration in his chest pocket and pulled his cell phone out and grinned. "I have to take this, it's a new redhead," he said quickly, walking to the back of the restaurant.

Once he was out of earshot she burst, "You arrogant bastard! You tricked me into this!"

"No," he corrected her, "I tricked Finn into this."

"I can't believe you," she exclaimed. "Tell Finn I'll be in contact with him later this week," she said, tucking their manila folder file under her arm.

"Woah, woah, wait a second. I am half ownership in this, too." He moved in front of her to stop her from making it to the door. "You can't just talk this all through to me? You know, the works of it all. Publicity, whatever."

She grimaced, "As much as I uh, would love to do that," she began sarcastically, "I think I should just handle this all with Finn."

"It probably won't work out too well for you. I'll just say that now."

She rolled her eyes, taking his bait and giving in, "And why not?"

He smirked, "He's leaving for Australia tomorrow for two weeks."

"You still have two months before you open. I think I'll manage." She breezed by him, and he caught the vanilla and rosewater scent he always knew to be unique to her. Sure, it was a common scent, but hers also had another ingredient in the mix. Coffee? He didn't know, but he liked it.

"Rory," he said, grabbing her upper arm to spin her back around.

She looked pointedly at his hand and he let go. "Talk to me."

"I think it's all been said."

"No! We never finished that conversation!" he exclaimed.

"No, we did. You issued an ultimatum and I refused." She shrugged, "Not that complicated."

"I thought that it was being postponed until you felt better."

"No, you assumed. And I don't feel better, so therefore it's still postponed."

He sighed, "Look, can I just treat you to a cup of coffee?"

She looked down at the little bit of tile between their close proximity, the ground not exactly clean of drywall from the construction. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"So this is your choice?" he asked, his voice full of defeat.

She bit her lip and nodded before slipping out the door into the New York street.

----------

He opened the door to his loft, briefcase in one hand, a brown paper bag with a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. Yes, she had made her choice. He had made his. At this point, there was nothing better than a night at home with a bottle of alcohol, his only true friend.

Finn had come back to a silent Logan and an absent Rory. Logan relayed Rory's message to Finn and his friend pat his back sympathetically, offering such words like 'maybe she'll change her mind'.

He knew her. When she made her choice, that was that.

It didn't explain everything. Like his old undershirt that he couldn't find in her room the morning she moved, stashed away in one of the boxes he had helped her unpack. He had questioned her and she just turned away and blushed, shrugging indifferently, telling him to throw it away if he must.

He had just put in a drawer with her clothes.

He closed the door shut behind him with his foot and set his briefcase by the door; he wouldn't be doing any work tonight. When he moved into the living room, to say he was shocked, was to say the least.

She was sitting there, in her work clothes, one leg propped up on the other that rested on the coffee table as she examined a cut she had gotten earlier that morning from shaving, her pencil skirt drawn up her thighs.

He swallowed at the sight of her bathed in moonlight. "How did you get in?"

"Your doorman. I told him I was your sister. If we ever come back here, we probably shouldn't be doing anything dirty in front of him."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He paused, standing in the doorway of the living room. "What are you doing here?"

"Calling the shots. That's what I'm supposed to do, right?"

"I thought you made it clear what you were going to do." She stood up, her skirt falling back down to her knees, and she smoothed it over with her hands.

She nodded as she walked to him, brushing hair off his forehead before clasping her small hands on the lapels of his suit jacket. "I never told you what I was going to do," she said, smirking.

"You mean you had this planned?"

She smiled, "No. You're right. I was going to be done with this. But then, I had a completely crappy day after I left your guys' place, and when I got back to the office, the first person I wanted to call was you. Well, we both know how that would have gone."

"So?" he asked, too tired to dig too deep for answers, too fed up with her coming and going to even want to know when she'd be gone next.

"So here I am," she stated firmly.

"How long before you yell at me again?"

She let go of him and stepped back, biting that lip again. "You were right, we need to talk." She shook her head, "But not tonight."

"Where is this coming from?" She sighed again, why was he asking all these questions, doubting her motives?

"I want to see where this goes. I mean, maybe we are too old for these relationships, but no one is dictating us." She looked down, "I couldn't make myself let you go."

Girl talk wasn't really his bag, these emotional, overdramatic conversations about life and love and emotions, yeah, that's a big no for him. But this, this was okay.

"So what now?" he asked.

"You actually stay the whole night?"


	6. I'd Capture Your Heart

A/N: thanks for the reviews. what happened to FFN last night? hm oh well. it works now. so here is chapter six. someone said to put smut in it, and i started to, sort of, but then i stopped because it was already a longer chapter than most. that, and im not sure if i can even write smut without sounding like an idiot. i may try it for the next chapter, i dont know. and i know the last few chapters have been all rory and logan so i'm probably going to bring in more characters in the next chapter. blah. so enjoy and review.

chapter six

She awoke to the shrill alarm clock sitting on a bedside table next to her. An arm reached over her, smacking the object into oblivion, successfully quieting it, before sliding the arm back to its original position, snugly wrapped around her waist.

Rory tilted her head to look at the time. Five AM. It was a Saturday, for God's sake. Why the hell would he get up at five in the morning on the weekend?

"Logan," she whispered.

"Mm," came the sleepy response.

"Why in the world would you get up at five on a Saturday?" She turned in his arms, and he rolled onto his back, and she tucked her head on his shoulder.

"I reset it every morning after I get up. I guess I forgot to turn it off last night."

"Huh." She slid out of his embrace and the bed, pulling on her panties and his own work shirt quietly, her bare feet padding on the dark wood floor as she made her way to the kitchen.

When he came out a few minutes later, clad in his boxers, she was standing in front of his coffee maker, changing the settings.

"Oh, I like him," she said. "You can change the speed!"

He flipped on an overhead light before he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Do you know what I like?"

"What?" she asked, stopping her movements on the coffee maker to listen to what he was going to say.

"You, in my shirt, in the morning here," he said smirking.

"Psh, it's still night time. Look! The sun's not even up. Frickin' five AM. We need to change that."

They were silent for a few minutes, both contemplating the meaning before this early wake up call. "Come on, Winston!" she exclaimed to the coffee maker.

"Winston?"

"I christened him just a few minutes ago," she said matter-of-factly. She took the now-full pot from the machine and he handed her a mug. She smiled at him and carefully poured them both cups of coffee.

"Gah," she groaned as she hopped up on the counter, completely ignoring the stools he had next to the counter. "It's so early."

"You know, you could sit on the chair, like a normal person," he said.

"Where's the fun in that?" She took a long drink of her coffee and he came to stand between her legs. She put her mug down next to her and moved her hands to his shoulders, stretching her arms. He moved in to kiss her and when their lips met, there was still the sparks they both felt that first night they had met.

The shivers down the spine all the way down to their toes. He could still smell the vanilla and rosewater and he could taste the coffee. It was the last ingredient to her scent. He groaned out loud.

She pulled away, her hands cupping his cheeks, "What?"

"My sheets are going to smell like you. And it'll drive me crazy until you're back over here, in my bed."

She smiled at him, pulling his face to her, placing her lips on his ear, "Now you know how I feel," she murmured, her breath hot on his skin. He all but pulled her off the counter so her back was pressed firmly against the marble top, crashing his lips on hers at the end of her confession. She pulled back lightly, and he pressed his forehead to hers with a sigh.

"How did I know this was coming?"

"I'm sorry. It's just, we postponed it last night, and I don't want to do anything huge without figuring this out?"

"You mean something bigger than having sex?"

"Like making promises we don't mean or won't keep or something stupid like that."

He tugged her chin to make her look at him, "That's not stupid."

She wanted his reassurance that everything would be okay. She wanted to know that she wasn't wasting time at his apartment, not to mention good names for his appliances. She wanted to know that he needed her as much as she needed him.

She smiled a watery smile, tears in her eyes at the complete lack of hope she had at that moment.

"I don't like seeing you with other guys, or knowing that you've been with other guys," he confessed quietly.

"I don't like being cast off to the side when I'm not needed or wanted."

He quickly looked to her, his eyes wondering if she was serious or not. He only saw her downcast gaze. "Rory, if I've ever done that, you have to know that it's not what I mean to do. I'm just…"

"You're just under a lot of pressure at work, I know. You've told me before."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"Hey, that's what this was, right? I don't hold it against you."

"Was? As in past tense?" he questioned, smirking at her slip-up.

"Well, I don't know where we stand right now, so yes, was." He pulled her to him, tucking her head under his chin.

"I want you here every night," he whispered in her ear. He felt her body shake under him; she was laughing.

"I'm not moving in, Logan," she said, smiling. "I just moved. And we don't even have an established…well, anything."

Now was the time. He could feel it. That one moment where it could all be turned to shit or something really good could come from it. She felt it, too. Her body tensed at his next words.

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

Her eyes bulged. "Are you insane! We'd kill each other!"

He smiled, "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Logan, think about this. Our families would have shit-fit. Think, two twenty-six year olds who have been sleeping together, no strings, for the past half a year are now going out."

"Our families don't have to know that. We can just tell them we've been friends."

"You've got to be kidding me." She pushed him away and started pacing in straight lines in his kitchen. Yes, she wanted this, more than almost anything. But how would this all work out in the end with both of them still alive.

He began to worry when she began to pull on the ends of her hair, fallen out from the clip she had it in last night. "Rory, we can cross that bridge later. Just tell me yes or no so I can know if I need to get a new name for Winston."

She smiled, stopping mid-pace, and sighed. "We're so screwed."

He backed her once again to the edge of the counter, carefully lifting her up and standing back between her legs. Their eyes were locked on each other's and their noses brushed against the other's. He saw a small glint of something in her eyes he had never seen before. Not only darkened with lust, but almost a glitter of happiness. He smiled and kissed her, pushing her into the wall behind her as she sat on the counter.

Her hands rested on his shoulders and slid to wrap around his neck, playing with the hairs at the back of his head, her hands gliding through the blonde locks gracefully. Well, as gracefully as can be done when your being pushed on a countertop. His hands slid up her thighs slowly, taking their time, with her getting ansty in anticipation. He grasped her hips and pulled her down to him, so that he was leaning over the counter to capture her lips in a bone-melting kiss.

She arched into him as his hand slid under his button-down work shirt she was wearing. As egotistical as he may be, he knew for a fact it looked better on her like this, than he could ever wear it. He smirked at the thought. He pulled her off the counter completely and she fell into him, pushing him back against the refridgerator. She smiled at the feeling of power she now had over him.

"Do you know what?" he asked as she kissed her way down the line of his neck, his vocal chords vibrating as he spoke against her lips.

"Hm?" she murmured.

"The last time we were together, actually together, was like this. Against the fridge, except the other way around."

"Almost a month ago," she said, reaching his collar bone.

"The longest time we've not seen each other in this whole thing."

"We did see each other, just not like this."

"Yeah, but," he was cut off by her finger being pressed over the crease of his lips.

"Shh." She smiled, "We're together now, right?"

He nodded. "So what does it matter?"


	7. Love Me If You Dare

A/N: okay, i dont know whats going on here. ive just been writing and writing. i mean, i even updated a story yesterday! good lord. well once again, im pressed for time because the morning bell is about to ring. so THANK YOU for the reviews and i hope you like this one. its sort of more filler, but i wanted to show their relationship now that they are actually together. mer, so i also have a few other chapters in other stories about half written (ex: _dream for me_) so those will most likely be up soon. enjoy and review.

chapter seven

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" an exasperated Paris asked Rory as they sat waiting for their clients in the meeting room, sitting at the large mahogany table. Rory sat tapping her pen on the wood, making Paris go insane with the noise.

"Who is it coming in today?" Rory asked, sitting up straight, smoothing over her black pants, light pink lace spaghetti strap tunic and gray sweater.

"I just told you this while you were thinking about lover boy!" Paris whispered harshly.

"I wasn't thinking about lover boy! Why are you calling him that? Just tell me who the hell is coming!"

They were meeting Finn and Logan from Realidades. Of course, Paris thought, Rory would know this if she wasn't so obsessed with her boy toy.

They stood as the door opened and Rory had to curb her shock. She shook their hands as was expected, before the two men moved to Paris and they sat across from the pair of PR agents at the table.

She bit back a smile as they worked, discussing publicity events for the upcoming restaurant opening, magazine articles to be published in local magazines, new ads, and other ideas that were tossed around to get the restaurant's momentum going.

He caught her eye and winked from across the table. Paris was skeptical about the two boys' motivation in the whole project, knowing Logan from college and Finn's reputation.

As they were filing out of the conference room, he pulled her arm, keeping her in the room, and looked at Paris. "You don't mind if I talk to her real quick, do you?"

"Oh no, by all means, lover boy."

"Love, come on. There's an idea I want to run past you," Finn said, tucking Paris's arm into the crook of his elbow, pulling her away from the conference room.

Rory laughed once the door was closed. "Lover boy?"

"She thinks that I'm having some torrid affair with a pool boy. Do you have a pool? I think I should look into that."

"Do I not count as a pool boy?" he asked.

She snorted as he pulled her closer, his arms wrapped around her waist. "You don't know the first thing about cleaning."

"No," he said, his lips on her throat, "but I do know a little about bikinis."

She laughed, pushing him away. "You're so full of shit."

"You know," he said, sitting on top of the conference room table, "I don't think I've actually seen you working."

"I've never seen you working," she reasoned.

"No, you have. That night a few months ago when I was doing some editing."

She laughed, "Oh yeah, you wore glasses. It was cute. But that still doesn't count. You weren't in the work environment, and I was sitting on your couch in a sheet." She paused, "Why are we talking about this again?"

She moved to stand in front of him, his hands on her waist, and he shrugged. "No reason."

She raised an eyebrow and turned when there was a knock on the door. She was thankful that they had decided to not get windows to the conference room, but went to open the door. "Yes, Paris?"

"Finn and I are going to get lunch. He has some ideas for costumes at the restaurant." She rolled her eyes and Rory smiled, making Paris raise her own eyebrow.

"You're happy. It's creeping me out."

"Thanks, Paris. You have fun at lunch," she responded sardonically.

She went to sit in a chair that Logan was sitting by, resting her head on his leg. "Hear that? I'm happy."

He pulled on her hands to pull her up and into his lap on the table, making it an uncomfortable position, not that she noticed. Their lips crashed together and his ran his hands through her brunette locks, feeling the curls in his fingers.

He rested his hand on her jawbone and looked her in the eye, "I'm happy, too, you know." She gave him a sound kiss in response, and he moved to trail his lips down her neckline.

"Is the door locked?" she murmured.

"Don't care."

She laughed, "Logan! Those are my employees." She pulled back, straightening his suit jacket. "Come on, I'll let you buy me lunch."

He groaned and slowly stepped off the table. "You owe me for that one, Gilmore."

She only smiled sweetly in return before going to her office to get her purse.

--------

Later that night, she arrived at his apartment, the doorman letting her inside the building without her even saying anything. He had taken her to lunch, and then dropped her off at her office with a kiss and a promise to call her.

She felt the bed, his bed, shift beneath her as someone lay down next to her, his hand trailing up her boxer clad leg. She was reading a book, her legs bent in front of her and the lamp next to the bed turned on. She set the book down on the nightstand and moved towards him.

"Long day?" she asked, moving to straddle his lap.

He murmured in response and she unbuttoned his work shirt. "Why are you here?" he asked.

She stopped her work and climbed off the bed. "I can leave," she said simply.

He grabbed her wrist as she walked by him and pulled her back down on top of him. "No."

"No?"

"No. I'm not letting you leave. I was simply wondering why you were here. Usually you come over later, or I go over there, but you're never here when I get home."

"Well, Paris's roommate decided tonight she would have a party, which logically, according to Paris, this meant she could take over my house with Finn and then I came here. I hope it's not a problem."

"It's not a problem. It's actually kind of nice," he admitted.

And it was. There was something about seeing her there, reading her book as if she lived here, as if this was a routine for them, being all domestic and husband-and-wife type.

Wait. What did he just say?

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch?" she asked quietly.

"No, I don't want you to move, just stay here," he said softly.

"Okay." He finished taking off his shirt on his own, going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change out of his pants as well before climbing under the covers next to her. He pulled her to him, so her back was to her chest, and he brushed away the hair that covered her neck, fixating his lips on the skin there.

"Wait," he paused and raised his head as her hands slid over his on her stomach, and she turned to look at him questioningly as he spoke.

"Did you say Paris and Finn?"


	8. Me and My Breaking Heart Agree

A/N: okay, so. Thank you for the reviews! they made me happy. grrr but school blocked by yahoo address, so i cant check my mail at school anymore, unless its sent to the school address. grr. anyways, this is meeting the huntzbergers, dun dun dun, and its a short meeting. very short. but i already have the next chapter completed, and it was done even before this one was so im oober excited about that one and just bleh about this one. so im sorry. i also stopped at a weird place because then thats where the next chapter starts up. but anyways, enjoy and review.

chapter eight

"Hey, little brother," a peppy voice sounded through Logan's cell phone a week later. His sister, Honor, was trying to get the full scoop on his and Rory's relationship.

"For the fifth time, Honor, no. I'm at lunch right now, so I'll have to call you back?"

"With Rory!" He hung his head and Rory laughed in the seat across from him before taking the phone from his ear.

"Hello?" she asked. Logan was making motions with his hands at his throat and finally shrugged before asking the waiter for another beer.

"Is this Rory?"

"Affirmative." The voice on the other line squealed and Rory held the phone away form her ear, giving Logan a look.

"You asked for it," he said and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, it is an hour to talk to the girl who tamed my little brother down."

Rory laughed, "I would hardly call it that. But we're at lunch so can I have him call you back?"

"Oh, God, yes. Sorry. Enjoy lunch and it was nice to talk to you." She snapped the phone shut and slid it across the table.

"I love Saturdays," Rory said, looking out the window of the small restaurant they were in for an early lunch.

He raised his eyebrow, "Why?"

"I don't know. Nothing to do, just sit and be lazy or go eat all the food in the world. Whatever you're in the mood for."

"What about Sundays?"

"Sundays are my stay-in-bed day. Nothing like a down comforter and a warm bed. Yep, those are good days."

He smirked at her quirky personality. It's not that he didn't know about it from when they simply had nights together, it just didn't show as much. They spent time doing other things, rather than talking.

She paused, "So, I'm the girl who tamed you?"

He groaned, "Honor…"

"It was cute," she said smiling, taking a drink of her coffee.

His phone rang again and he cursed. "Hello? Dad, hi. Come tonight? And bring Rory?" He looked at her from across the table and her eyes widened.

"Who told you that we are dating? No, I have the right to know. Fine, I'll see what I can do. Eight o'clock, got it. No, Dad, I won't be late. Bye."

There was a beat of silence. "So I guess tonight wouldn't be the night to stay home and eat all the food in the world, huh?" she asked.

"I'm really sorry. I can get us out if you don't want to go."

She shook her head, despite her inner turmoil, "No, it's fine."

Dinner with his parents? The infamous Huntzbergers? He must have read her mind because his hand slipped over hers where it was resting on the fork. He didn't want to worry about this now. They had a full afternoon ahead of them. He didn't want a black cloud hanging over them.

"It'll be okay, I swear. They'll like you."

"I'm not worried about that. I don't care if they like me or not. I don't need their approval to know I've made something of myself."

He smirked, reveling in her independence. Sometimes though, it caused problems for them. She liked being on her own sometimes, and sometimes he felt he was just holding her back.

"Then what?"

She looked around at the other people in the restaurant, a mother with her baby, the husband smiling at the two from the seat across from them; a young couple sitting on one side of the booth, her head resting on his shoulder as they looked at a menu. Was everyone with someone these days?

"It's just," turning her eyes back to him, "what would this mean for us? I mean, meeting the parents. It sounds all official."

"Well, are we not official? I thought we covered this," he said, confused.

She smiled, "I know. It's just me, being over…whatever. It's fine."

His gaze lingered a little longer, not fully believing her. The waiter came with their check and she took it before he could, sticking her tongue out at him.

"How old are we?" he asked.

"I get to pay for it this time. You always pay for everything I eat."

"It's proper. And its not like its damaging my bank account." He snatched the bill out of her hands and she pouted.

"Fine. I'm buying next time."

---------

He came to her house at about five, as they had to drive to Hartford from New York, about a two hour drive. He found her pacing in the kitchen in a black strapless dress with a fitted bodice and a bubble-dress type bottom. Her feet were bare and she was pacing the stove, back and forth before he stopped he by putting his hands on her shoulders.

She screamed. "Oh, it's you."

"Thanks for the warm welcome."

"I thought it was someone, like a murderer, the way you snuck up on me."

"Sorry. You ready to go?" He brushed hair away from her head.

"Um, yeah," she said uncertainly.

She started walking to the door, "Shoes?" he called.

"Right, shoes. Might want those." She grabbed a pair of heels the door. She slipped them on and went outside to his car. He laughed before opening the passenger side door and handing her a black shawl he had grabbed off the table in the entry way of her house. "Thanks," she said as he shut the door behind her.

His hand slid over her leg as they made their way to Hartford and she looked at him. "I didn't tell them who you were. Gilmore, or otherwise."

"Why not?" she asked.

"I don't want them judging you for your money. If they don't like you, I want it to be valid reasons and said up front, not just them being fake to you for social status."

"So you're thinking they won't like me?" she asked.

"No! No, that's not what I meant." She laughed; he was just as scared as she was. She put a hand over his.

"We'll be okay."

"So Rory," Shira Huntzberger, Logan's mother, asked as they were sitting down to dinner. Mitchum, his father, looked like he was chomping at the bit to get out of there and Elias Huntzberger, Logan's grandfather simply asked the maid for another whiskey.

"My friend and I just opened a PR firm in the business district in New York."

"So you studied public relations in college," Mitchum asked.

"No, actually, I was going to be an overseas correspondent but that didn't sit too well with my mother." Mitchum smiled before taking a drink of his own whiskey.

"So what do your parents do, Rory?" Shira asked for the sake of conversation.

"She owns an inn, not far from here, just a little while outside Hartford."

"We can't ignore the subject forever!" Elias shouted.

"Dad," Mitchum started.

"No, Mitchum, I will not let this trailer trash gold digger ruin this family!"

Rory scoffed, "Excuse me? I am hardly from a trailer and I am in now way after money."

"Oh, and we're supposed to believe you make your own?"

"Yes, you are."

"I've never heard of anyone in PR by the name of Rory, Miss…" he didn't know her last name, Mitchum realized.

"Gilmore," she said, standing up from the table, throwing her napkin down on the plate served with lemon chicken.

She took her shawl and clutch from the maid and walked out the front door. She was leaning on his car when he came out ten minutes later.

"Well, that took long," she said sarcastically.

"Rory…" he started.

"Can we go? I'm getting another headache."

"Yeah, sure." He pulled the door open and she slipped inside the small sedan.

She rested her head on the window as the New York City lights came into view.

"Rory, I'm so sorry."

She gave him a tight smile before turning back to the skyline. "I didn't think they'd be that upfront about this."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not.

"So I am a trailer trash, gold digging whorebag?"

He looked at her sharply from her tone as they were pulling up into her driveway. "I'll talk to you later," she said as he pressed a light kiss to her lips before she climbed out of the car and into her house.

-------

"Rory?" he called as he walked through the front door of her house two days later.

He found her at the stove, stirring something in a pot. "I didn't know you cooked."

"There's a lot you don't know about me. And I happen to make a mean mac n' cheese."

It was eight o'clock Monday night, and they were both exhausted from work. She even still had her heels on, something he found odd, even for her quirky behavior.

She ate some from the pan before dumping out the water and adding the milk and cheese. She kept eating from the pan. "Does this mean I don't get any?"

She dropped the pan on the counter and brushed by him. "Rory," he groaned.

"No, don't even, Logan."

"You said we were fine!"

"Thanks for standing up for me there! Shows how much I really mean to you!"

"Why didn't you yell about this then? Not forty eight hours after not hearing from you!"

She yelled incoherently, taking off her shoes as she headed for the stairs, for the first time in their relationship, wanting to get away from him.


	9. Their Hate Don't Belong to You

A/N: hey...thank you for the reviews! umm lets see. okay, so in the last chapter i said i was excited for this chapter. upon further evaluation and editing i realize that yeah..not so much. im going to leave it as is, because i sort of like what it builds, but if i develop a passionate hate for it, dont be surprised if a new chapter is up. semi-smutty ish - - where do you draw the line - - at the end. its sort of bleh. tell me what you think. OH! and tomorrow is my bday..the big one-six. translation : driving! leave me lots of reviews for a fun bday present? because you love me...no?..okay. long enough ramble. enjoy and review.

chapter nine (their hate don't belong to you)

She held her heels in one hand as she stomped up the stairs to her bedroom. He followed behind close, not going to lose this argument.

She disappeared into her large connecting closet and bathroom and he went to stand in the doorway, leaning on the door frame. He watched her throw her heels with one hand into her closet, wincing when they collided with the wall.

"That'll leave a mark," he said.

"I don't give a shit! God, you're infuriating!" Her yell was partly drowned out by the thunder outside. Great, the weather matched both of their moods, hers angry, and his glum, he thought. Perfect.

"I thought you said you were fine," he reasoned quietly.

"Do I look fine to you, Logan?"

She pulled her blouse over her head to change her clothes, still in the skirt and blouse combo she had chosen to wear to work that day. His resolve was fading when he saw the black lace bra seem to blend into her creamy, pale skin.

"Look, I know my family was just…way off. I know I should have said something to defend you, but I knew you wanted to do it on your own. They shouldn't have this much control on our lives," he caught her gaze and finished quickly, "and they don't, but I don't want them to ruin this relationship."

She laughed, turning to look at him. "What relationship? Jesus, let's do a recap, shall we?" He looked away, not knowing if he really wanted to hear what she was going to say.

"First, we didn't even have one of those sickeningly sweet meetings. We met at a bar, romantic, isn't it, and had a one night stand, followed by a six month no-strings relationship. Great start, I must say. Then, you issued an ultimatum, which I accepted and we hashed this all out a few weeks ago that it was a relationship, when we both knew that there were more strings the first night than there are now! Which brings us to the present. Dinner at your parents' house, where I was accused of being a gold digger and a slut, which are both untrue. So, do tell, how is this a fun relationship that you want to stay in?"

He had gotten angrier with each point she made. She was right, he knew, but he thought that they were getting on a better footing than they had been on.

"Hey, I didn't mean for it to be an ultimatum! You left me no other choice! Your complete indifference for me, going out with other men, not even daring to look at me whenever I was around!"

"Were we not in a no-strings relationship or was I just not there for this little memo you seem to have given out about our relationship?" He had her cornered against a wall, both gasping for breath after their screaming match.

He pushed her against the wall, grasping her upper arms, their faces centimeters apart. "God, don't you get it?" he growled, unconsciously pushing her farther and farther back into the wall, a light switching digging into her back.

"Logan, it hurts," she whispered, trying to make him let go.

"Rory, I'm in fucking love with you and you don't even care!" He had her as far as she could go against the wall, still pushing her, hands still wrapped around her upper arms, sure to leave bruises.

"Logan," she whispered again, "you're hurting me."

"You hurt me everyday, Rory," he said, not understanding the gravity of her statement.

"Logan," she repeated. She looked at his hand enclosing her arm. "You're scaring me."

He looked down to where her gaze fell and promptly let go, "Christ." Without the sudden support holding her to the wall, she collapsed, sliding down to the carpet. He crouched down next to her, taking her hands in his, before he admitted defeat and sat on the floor next to us.

"God, what's happened to us."

She slid onto his lap, over his legs which were crossed Indian style, her legs draped on either side of his hips, coming to tangle together behind his back. Her hands found their way into his hair, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, smoothing her hands through it with grace and ease, calming him down with whispers in his ear.

"It's okay, Logan. Look at us, we'll be okay. We've made it, haven't we?"

Her hands moved to cup his face, and she crouched slightly to meet his eyes, "Look at me," she said firmly. "Next time you want to hurt me, make sure I at least get something out of it other than a bruise. Make sure I enjoy it, okay?"

He smirked at her innuendo, but not feeling any better about his previous actions.

She sighed, knowing what he was thinking. Yes, they were on the floor of her closet, her bathroom just outside the small door. Yes, he had hurt her physically, but she was sure by his confession that she had inflicted more pain on him than she could know.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the one thing that she had only just admitted to herself. She affixed her cherry-red lips on his ear and in a ghost of a whisper, murmured, "I love you. You know I do. It's just…me and relationships aren't exactly known for being successful."

He wrapped his arms around her lower back, bringing her closer to him. He began rubbing circle on the skin of her back, bare except for her bra, feeling the small indentation of the light switch and wishing he could take it all back. "How so?" he asked.

"Pick a relationship that's not me and my mother." He already knew they were close.

"Okay, you and your dad," he said simply, not expecting much.

She smirked, "Ah, the beginning of it all." Her face fell, so she was almost frowning and he caught her eye to tell her to keep going. "Dad wasn't ever there, really. My mom got pregnant with me when she was sixteen, and he just sort of bolted. He tried to come back a few times, but ended up just leaving again. So I haven't talked to him since I was sixteen, except for once during college when he came to Yale to try to get me to come stay with him for a week to meet his new daughter. Basically, Mom raised me on my own."

"See, we're more alike than we know. We both hate our fathers."

Tears were in her eyes, "Do you know how many times he lied to me, how many promises he broke? So many." One tear fell on his shirt and he pulled her closer, now pressed chest to chest, her legs tangled behind his back in some complex way. Her head dropped on his shoulder and he smoothed down her hair.

She laughed, "We're in my closet."

He smirked, "It's a nice closet," he said, looking around. She pulled away and smacked his shoulder.

"Shut up," she said, laughing again. She didn't know how they could go from screaming at one another one moment to laughing the next. It's something they had always done.

"Hey," he said quietly, moving his hands up to cup her neck and lift her face to his. "I'm sorry."

There was so much in those two words she didn't know where to begin. He was sorry for his parents, for yelling, for unintentionally hurting her. She placed a kiss on his lips, "It's okay."

"Do you really not like our relationship?" he asked seriously.

"I was angry, Logan. Don't hold it against me." He looked at her. "Sometimes, yes, okay? I see other couples and its like they've had such an easier relationship than ours. Are you okay with it?"

"Yeah, I am. We needed to ease into it, I think. I mean you just said relationships are hard for you, and I don't really do relationships, this is my first. But I do know that for the past two nights, I've been at my house by myself, and I don't like it. Not after spending a week in your bed."

She blushed, "It wasn't a week in my bed."

He smirked, "Fine, after spending my nights for a week in your bed."

"Thank you."

"Fight over?"

She played innocence, "Was that a fight?"

His smirk grew, "Do you know what that means?"

She laughed as he picked himself up off the ground with her still wrapped intricately around his torso. "Do tell, Mr. Huntzberger."

"I think I can show you." He stood upright and shifted under her weight, and at that moment, she caught his earlobe between her teeth, catching him off guard. They fell into her wardrobe, knocking down a rod of hangers that held her work clothes.

She laughed into his ear, "You're ironing my shirt tomorrow."

"Anything that the lady asks."

"Cheesy," she groaned. She grabbed a shirt that had fallen into her bent knees around his waist and threw it on the ground, moving her lips to behind his ear and down his neck. He took them through her closet and into the bathroom, setting her on a small vanity table she had in the corner. He watched her in amazement as she bit her lip, hands smoothing over his chest before finding the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers moved precariously to unbutton his shirt, moving as if she had never done this before, as if it were the first time.

That's the effect he had on her. Every time they were ever together, she always felt something new, something she had never felt before.

His lips trailed down the concave of her collarbone to the valley of her breasts and she arched into him. His skilled fingers were making their way to the zipper of her skirt and hers to his belt buckle.

She trailed her lips up his chest, pressing butterfly kisses into his shoulder, moving up to his ear. "Bedroom," she murmured.

He obliged, and when he picked her up, her skirt fell before she could wrap her legs around him to catch it. Too caught up to notice she continued her trail of open mouth kisses down his throat, curving over his adam's apple. "Four days," she said against his skin.

"Four days what?" he stopped walking, looking into her eyes.

"Since we've been together. Too long."

Smirking at her, he trailed kisses up her jaw bone,"Addicted to me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am." He silenced her with a searing kiss on her lips and she forgot everything she was going to say.

They walked through her bathroom and into her bedroom to where he laid her on her bed, or more appropriately, their bed. She knew if they ever broke up, she would be buying new one, not being able to bear the thought of sleeping in a place where they were once what they were. Hell, she'd probably move.

He slipped off his pants and shoes and socks before climbing up to her. She reached up and slid her arm around his neck, his lips crashing into hers before he comfortably slid on top of her. She smirked his infamous smirk and he laughed before reaching behind her to her back and unhooking her bra, sliding it off and dropping it on the floor beside the bed.

Suddenly, she didn't want to deal with this mindless foreplay. She wanted him, yes, so much, and dare she say it again, loved him. But tonight was not the night for the romantic love-making in all the books, she just wanted to feel him.

She gripped his chin to make him look at her, and she let go to tangle her hands with his, bringing them to rest on her chest. "Now," she murmured.

He understood. He too had felt the change in the mood, though didn't want to mention it, lest it drove her away. He already had to reel her back into him tonight, and he didn't want to fail the second time around. So with a twitch of a muscle in his jaw, his restraints were cut and he kissed her forcefully, barely giving her time to catch her breath.

He slid down her body, taking her panties with him, and he smirked as he made his way back up her body. Her own hands slipped down his torso, his muscles convulsing at the soft touch, and she tugged on his boxers before they fell down. She hummed her approval as her hands rested on his shoulders and he kissed her again soundly on the lips before he slid into her deftly, knowing her every feel, every touch she needed, as if it were written in Braille for him to decode since the very beginning.

"Fuck," she murmured and he voiced his own agreement. One hand gripped her waist and the other held him up on the sheets while her legs wrapped around him and her hands tangled in his hair by the fistful. A passing thought that she had, the only one she would remember would be that she finally figured out why his hair was so messy sometimes during the day after little midday escapades they had begun to have at the office while they worked together. _She _did it.

All thoughts left her mind as he surged into her again, again, again and again. There was one constant that night that remained steady with every other night, past the fights and hurt and screaming until they both went hoarse. The one reason they could always be together.

Him and her left tired and breathless in between sheets, holding on to each other for dear life.


	10. Take You Away in the Way You Take Me

A/N: thank you for the reviews! almost 100! whee. okay, um, for this one, i dont really know what happened. i was just sitting here and then i sort of got off on a tangent. (sigh) that happens all the time these days. anyways, im not a big fan of this one, but meh. so tell me what you think, and ignore any grammatical mishaps..i dont have enough time to edit right now. :-) enjoy and review.

chapter ten

"Rory?" He called as he walked through her front door the following Thursday night.

"Living room!" she yelled back. Sure enough, there she was in boy shorts underwear and a tank top watching _Anastasia_. She was laying on the couch with her head on the arm rest, a cup of coffee and a bag of popcorn on the table in front of her.

"So this is what you do with your time," he said, as if enlightened, lifting her feet up so he could sit by her and put them in her lap.

"Long day," she murmured.

"That's right. Doing some more work with Finn on the restaurant. Sorry I had to miss this one."

"He wants the waiters to dress up in roller skates and sombreros for the uniform."

"Say no more," Logan said, nodding his head. "So then you come home and watching an animated movie about a supposed missing princess, which isn't even true?"

"Well, you do know how to ruin a movie, Huntzberger. Hand me that blanket," she pointed to the arm rest nearest to him. He grabbed it and unfolded it, pulling it over her.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Pizza?"

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, jumping up and sitting cross – legged facing him, pulling the blanket in her lap. "We can go to the grocery store! There's some shindig Saturday night for Rachael, an employee who's taking a maternity leave because she was ordered to bed rest until her delivery, and I'm supposed to bring snacks."

"Can't you bake them?"

She snorted, "Please. The mac n' cheese was my only dish. And that is still from a box."

He laughed and followed her upstairs where she threw on jeans and a black track jacket over her tank top, and he watched from the doorway. She slipped into flip flops and he handed her her purse.

"I'm excited! It's been so long since I've actually bought real food. I usually just order in."

"I don't think I've ever been grocery shopping," he said as they pulled out of her driveway.

She turned to look at him, "What?"

"I mean, I've gone in for the alcohol and the occasional needed item, but someone always got my food and groceries for me."

She looked forward, her eyebrows furrowed. She never realized how much of a childhood he might have missed out on. She smiled to break the tension and shoved his arm playfully. "A grocery store virgin. So pure and innocent. Just wait until its meat and cheese sale day! Then you can really experience life in the fast lane of grocery shopping!"

"You're an odd one, you know that right?" She smiled and shifted in her seat to face forward.

"I take pride in my quirkiness, thank you."

They pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and she led them inside, grabbing a cart by the door. He simply followed. She looked back at his trailing form and laughed, shaking her head. "It's not going to kill you. Look at it this way, you've never been to the grocery store, and I've never done it in my closet."

He smirked, "We didn't even have sex," he emphasized the word because she wouldn't, "in your closet. So technically, we have to find something else you've never done. Have you ever had sex in the grocery store? That'd be a first for both of us."

She blushed furiously as she pulled them into the soup and condiments aisle. "Stop talking about this. Little kids could be around. And I don't want to discuss this in public."

He shrugged, tossing a box of bags of Ramen noodles into her cart. She looked at him, "What, you've never eaten this stuff before?"

She shook her head and was quiet as she kept looking at the varieties of noodles macaroni and cheese came in. He came up behind her, placing his hands on either side of the cart with his mouth close to her ear. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

She bit her lip to hold back a smile, shaking her head. "You're buying groceries for my house. It's cute. And a little unexpected."

He moved his hands to her waist and kissed her cheek as she turned back to the boxes of food. She reached to the top shelf before looking at him, "We're having dinner at my grandparent's tomorrow night."

Just like that. As if they were talking about weather or a new CD that just came out, this was thrown out that casually. She tossed her food in the cart and moved to push it. He had moved to stand at the front of the cart, looking back at her, not letting it move.

"Were you going to tell me?" he asked, his voice low to not cause a scene.

"I am now. I just found out this morning. Apparently your mother called my grandmother to tell her what a "lovely woman" I've become. Not at all like my college bookworm self. It seemed I've grown my wings, and it's necessary since I met your parents, that you must meet my parents. The idiocy of the social class we belong to never ceases to amaze me."

He was stuck at what his mother had done. "My mother did that?"

"I know. I actually laughed when Grandma told me."

He came around and wrapped an arm around her waist, kissing her softly. "We'll manage. Worse comes to worse, it'll end up like last time, which ended pretty well, if I do say so myself."

She smacked his chest and they kept walking, his arm around her waist, her body pressed into his, somehow pushing the cart, making them walk funny.

An elderly couple passed and stopped to watch the two, who were now quietly talking and laughing at something, and the old woman turned to her husband. "Look at the lovely couple. There's somethin' that'll last."

Rory caught the last words and turned around quickly, speechless. The old lady came up to her, "Oh, darling, when did you two get married?"

"Uh, oh, no," she trailed off. Why did this lady care? And did she notice the ringless fingers the couple was sporting?

"Just last month," Logan interjected, giving the lady a charming smile, being sure to take Rory's hand to hide the invisible rings they were apparently wearing.

"Hear that, Harold? Newlyweds! Good luck to ya both."

"Come on, Martha," the husband grumbled, "you're scaring the poor kids."

He took his wife by the elbow and led her down the aisle. Rory turned to Logan. "We're married?"

He shrugged, smirking, "I couldn't disappoint the poor lady."

She shoved his shoulder, "Softie."

He took over pushing the cart and she trailed behind him, lost in her thoughts. He kept putting in food he knew she would want, mainly, snack food, while she thought about what had happened.

How naturally it had come to them. They fell into the role of husband and wife at the drop of a hat. It scared her. This was something she could see happening on a regular basis, shopping for their groceries. Driving together just to get away from the havoc of everyday life.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by him holding up a bag of chocolate chip and M 'n M cookies. "Which one?"

She looked distracted, "Both."

He dropped them in the cart along with the other snack food, Pringles, Chex Mix, Red Vines, the whole shebang. "You okay?"

She turned back to the shelf, "Yep, good."

"There's only so much of everything from this aisle you can buy, Ror."

She shook her head, smiling. "I know. Next aisle."

He followed her, "You're upset."

She wheeled around, "I am not upset."

"And defensive." He moved to wrap his arms around her. "What is so wrong with people asking when we got married?"

She scoffed, "You know, it should be the other way around. You freaking out and running away, not me. Mr. Commitment-Phobe of the United States." She pulled her hands through her hair, "I can't believe this. Can we go?"

He stared at her before dropping his arms. Was the thought of being married to him that scary? He voiced his thoughts aloud.

She sighed, "It's not scary, just…new. I mean we've been dating for what, a month, two months, and simply the idea of marriage is daunting."

He didn't agree with her. They already had routines, little things that only they do, their own sides of the bed, for God's sake. He finds himself, even when he's at home alone, staying on the right side of the bed, not the left, where she usually slept. She had some clothes at his apartment and vice versa. He was now buying food for her house for both of them.

All they needed to do was the sign the paper and buy some rings.

She noticed his far away glance and cupped his chin, making him look at her. "You know I love you. Just give it time."

Smart words from a smart woman. She brushed her lips over his quickly before he could pull her closer and deepen it, which would, in the end, make them get kicked out of the store.

"What time tomorrow?"


	11. Heaven Bend to Take My Hand

A/N: thank you so much for the reviews! over 100! whee! it makes me happy. anyways, in this story, im trying to decide if i want her pregnant or not...because i really want to write that. and if not, ill be starting a new story that i have a new idea for. but i think it would sorta work for this story, even though it been many many times before, but i have a really good idea of where i would want it to go. but anyways, tell me what you think on that and on this chapter. :) enjoy and review.

chapter eleven

"Finn," she groaned, coming to know him more of a brother than a client. "You have one month until opening. Your being gone in Australia wasn't the best time to be gone, and your decision to want to change all the publicity ads going out tomorrow, I might add, would not be helping the cause at all."

"But, love," he said, in all seriousness as possible after being completely inebriated for the last two days straight. "If we do an ad with me in it, not the mascot, which is still lovely since it is a kangaroo, my true love will truly find me!"

"Finn, you find your true love every night."

He smiled, "Just think how many I'd find then."

She shook her head and turned to his business partner and raised an eyebrow, "Talk to him."

It was the following day, and they were going to be at Richard and Emily Gilmore's house in seven hours, leaving to arrive in Hartford in five. They had left the store last night, after him paying for the groceries with much protest from Rory.

"I thought you didn't work on Fridays," Logan said.

"You open in one month and that's what you tell me?" she all but yelled.

He smirked, "Don't get your panties in a twist. We'll be fine."

She threw her hands up in the air. "I give up. I'm going to get food and go home, and enjoy what's left of my day off."

She closed their file and tucked into her bag that was on the floor next to her and stood up to leave Realidades. He followed her closely, "You okay?"

"Tired, stressed, hungry, dreading this dinner tonight," she listed. "Need I go on?"

He smiled, "No, I got it."

"Good. I hear Chinese calling my name."

"For lunch?"

"It's the all-day food!"

"Okay, go home, sleep, eat, whatever. Get ready and I'll pick you up around five. Alright?"

She nodded and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she reached up to kiss his lips. "Alright."

He squeezed her arm and let go, letting her walk outside, to the nearest Chinese restaurant.

---------

He walked into her room at the time when she was pulling on her dress, and he stepped into her closet to zip it up for her.

She jumped at both the touch of his cool hands on her warm skin and his unannounced presence. "Your hands are cold," she whispered.

"It's cold outside," he replied, just as quietly.

"So will I be cold?" she asked, gesturing to her blue silk halter dress that flowed to her knees and her silver pumps.

"Do your grandparents not have heat?" he asked.

She smacked him, "I'm taking that as I'll be fine," she said. "What do you think?"

She asked, smiling and turned, spinning around.

He stared, speechless. She smiled, "Cat got your tongue?"

"You're beautiful," he managed.

She kissed his cheek, "You don't look so bad yourself." She gestured to his nice suit and perfectly styled hair. "You know," she began, "sometimes I think you spend more time on your hair than I do."

He smirked, "Well, you also do a great styling job to my hair, too."

She blushed and smacked him again. "You're very violent today."

She grabbed her pea coat from the back of the closet and he helped her into it, and she pulled her curls out from under the collar.

"You can take it."

"Maybe it'll come out in my favor," he said, eyebrows raised.

"Don't act like a pig," she said in a tactful voice.

"Don't act like my mother."

"Hey! I resent that." He laughed and led her out to his car, parked in her driveway and opened the door.

"Now, would a pig be able to do that? I don't think so." She huffed, mock angry, and slid inside.

-------

"Logan!" Emily Gilmore cried joyfully when she pulled open the door almost immediately upon their arrival. "How nice you could join us! Come in, come in."

"Not like he had any choice in the matter," Rory muttered.

"What was that, Rory?"

She smiled, "The house looks wonderful, Grandma."

"Nice lie," Logan said quietly after Emily had turned to lead them into the living room after the maid, who was apparently too incompetent to open the door, but to handle their thousand dollar outwear, took their coats.

"Are you saying that I was wrong? On either account?"

"No, you were right. I didn't have a choice and the house does look wonderful."

They sat next to each other on the couch as Richard poured the drinks. "Is Mom coming tonight, Grandma? I haven't talked to her all week."

"No, she's out with that Luke man. Honestly, she could have brought him along. It's not as if we would have torn him to bits. Her thinking sometimes is so strange, I can hardly keep up."

"Yes, that's her."

"Shall we eat? We were just waiting for you two to arrive. It was so exciting that you were both able to come, and on such a short notice."

"Nonsense, Emily," Logan said, and Rory had to force herself to not roll her eyes. _Ever the charmer_, she thought.

They all sat in the dining room at their respective spots, Logan across from Rory and Richard at the head, with Emily across from him.

"So, Logan," Richard began, "how's the newspaper business?"

Rory gauged his reaction, but at looking at his face, she figured his mother would be proud. It was a trained society response. A smile and a cheery response, "Great, better than ever."

He caught her eye and winked and she frowned.

"Richard, aren't these two just adorable together? Can you picture the children? His hair and her eyes."

Rory's eyes bulged and she choked on her lemon chicken, coughing. "Rory, are you alright?" Richard asked.

She waved him off, "Oh yeah, fine," still coughing.

"And a wedding at the vineyard."

"You know," Rory said, "I'm starting to get a little headache. Would you mind terribly if we rescheduled this dinner?"

She took a drink of her water. "Yes, Rory hasn't been feeling well for the past few days," Logan said, his eyes never leaving Rory's.

"Well," Emily said, "You should have told me. It was silly for you to drive from New York to here if you weren't feeling well, Rory."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"I'll have Melinda get your coats." Emily placed her napkin on her plate and stood, off in search for the maid. Logan met Rory at the end of the table and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Do you really feel sick or is this fake?" he whispered hotly in her ear.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide, eyebrows raised. "You think I wanted to drive here and pretend to be sick just to drive home? Are you serious?"

Her voice continued to get louder with each word and she pulled away from him to get her coat. She shrugged her arms into it and jerked open the door, leaving him no other choice but to follow.

She was silent in the car, didn't even let him open the door for her.

Finally, he sighed and pulled over on the side of the road.

"Is this a less than subtle way of telling me to walk home?" she asked.

"No, this is us needing to talk."

"Why does everyone want us married?" she whispered, tears threatening to fall.

"Why are you so scared?" She turned back in her seat, facing the dark highway ahead of them, slightly reminding her of their lives, dark, a mystery.

"Take me home."

"Rory…"

"Logan," she snapped. Her voice softened, "Please."

He shifted the car into gear hesitantly and dropped her off at her house, not saying goodbye to her, kissing her cheek or anything. He just let her go. It wasn't her grandparents or his parents that started this fight. It was her fear and reluctance to let him in.

--------

"Rory," he said, stepping into her room, a week later, where she was on her bed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, knees pulled up to her chest.

A whole week without her, he forgot what it was like. And personally, if he could have it another way, he'd never let this happen again. His week was horrible. And he didn't have anyone to cheer him up, or laugh with, or just talk to, for God's sake. He needed her.

"Rory? You haven't answered my calls." He stopped when he saw her. "I've been calling," he said softly.

"I know." Her voice was hoarse, strained.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I uh, don't know if this is the best time, but I have some news."

"Me too." He hated her voice like this, like she had been crying. Her face was pale, eyes sunken in as if she hadn't slept in days. "You first," she said.

Bad idea, he thought. He didn't want to go first. "It's not particularly good news, actually. It's sucky news, but I wanted you to know."

"Are you going to tell me or should I play clairvoyant?" Her voice became stronger with each word.

"Right. I just talked to my father," her face darkened at the words, "and um, well, I have to go leave."

"Leave," she repeated.

"Oregon," he said. "Only for a month or so. There's an up and coming newspaper I need to find an editor for, so I need to run it until I can get someone."

Her mouth formed an 'o'. "When?" she asked, whispering.

"Red eye tomorrow night."

She was quiet, the silence nearly killing him. He cleared his throat, "What did you have to tell me?"

Tears shone in her eyes, "I should have gone first."

He smiled, "It can't be that bad, can it?"

"Depends on your definition of bad."

"You're avoiding it. Rory, you're scaring me."

She held up her hand to make him stop and his next words fell silent on his lips. He pushed a hand through his hair and took a step nearer to where she was sitting on the end of her bed. "What is it?"

"I think I'm pregnant."


	12. Caution: The Floor is Wet, Been Crying

chapter twelve

"What do you mean, you think?" he asked, his mind not yet grasping the gravity of her words that she just uttered.

"The test is still in the bathroom," she said quietly.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Stop with all these questions! I don't know, I just…don't know! I can't deal with this right now."

"Well, it's not exactly going to wait for you, Rory."

"I know that, Logan! Just leave, please."

"Are you serious? You could be pregnant, you're not really sure, and it would be mine, wouldn't it, and you're asking me to leave?"

"Fine, stay, if I knew you were going to bitch about it I wouldn't have you told you."

"Was telling me even in your plan? Maybe when you needed some cash here and there, 'Hey Logan, you have a kid, can you send a check?'"

Her palm stung against his cheek and his head contracted from the blow. "How dare you."

He stopped, "Rory, I didn't…" but she was gone. He heard the bathroom door slam, followed by a strangled cry. She had seen the test results.

She picked up the small stick from the counter, her hand shaking, and opened the door, momentarily forgetting that he had just insulted her. He had to steady her hand with his own to see what it read.

"You're…we're having a baby. But…how?"

"Well, Logan, when a woman and a man-" she was cut off.

"Rory," he said sharply and she backed up. "I mean, we were careful."

She stopped, her mind obviously going over encounters they had had in the past few weeks and her eyes shot to his, he too realizing when it must have been.

"The closet," she whispered.

He gave a small smile, "That was a good night."

"What a story we can tell her."

"What if it's a him?"

"I think we have a little time to worry about that."

"I don't know what to say. I'm…"

She gave him a watery smile. "You're leaving," she said flatly.

He stopped his pacing that he had started when she had brought out the test. "Rory, no, I'll talk to him."

"No, Logan, I'm not going to let you."

"You're not the only one with a say in this."

"Logan," she whispered, her hand wrapping around his wrist, "you have to go."

"Rory," he breathed, wiping stray hairs from her face, "I can't leave you."

"You can, and you will. It's only for a month, right?" He nodded. "Okay, so I'll stay here and…wait, you're not going to be here for the opening?"

He rubbed her stomach, "Don't worry about it."

"We're going to pretend there is no opening so I don't get an ulcer, and you'll go and I'll, we'll," she corrected herself, "be here when you get back."

"Both of you?" he asked, smiling.

"Both of us," she smiled back, and he crashed his lips to hers, her arm wrapping around his neck. She pulled back and buried her face in his neck. "I'm so tired."

"Go to sleep. Let me change," he said.

"No, you need to get home, pack. I won't be any fun anyways." She seemed adamant on having him go.

"Rory…"

"Please, I just sort of want to gather my thoughts right now. Is that okay?"

He nodded and pressed another kiss to her lips and bent down to kiss her stomach, her hands tangled in his hair as she smiled, happy that he wasn't completely rejected by the idea of having a baby.

"We'll have to talk tomorrow before I leave. You know, the big things."

Her eyebrow rose. "Can't wait," she said sarcastically.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, kissing her forehead once more and leaving her to herself.

------

He walked up the stairs to her house and eased the door open carefully, quietly. "Rory?" he called.

He looked in the kitchen, the living room before finally going upstairs to search for her.

He only found a letter, in her neat cursive, in an envelope with his name lovingly written on the front.

_Logan – _

_If you're reading this, which you are, obviously, I'm gone. Not for good, but for now. You'll be gone and I don't want these memories of you around, even if you are coming back, but God knows when that will be, with your father. _

_Sadly enough, I feel like a twenty year old writing this, not a twenty-six year old. Running away from everything, everyone. I'll be back soon, probably after you're back, and we can rehash everything and you can yell at me at how irresponsible I was, and am, which I know you are itching to do right now. _

_Am I right? I knew it. _

_Please don't try to find me, now or when you get back, please just let me, us, be, until we're ready to come back. _

_I handed the rest of your restaurant opening work, which you probably won't be there for anyways, over to Paris. Say hello/goodbye to Finn for me. _

_I love you. So much. _

_Rory _

He crumpled it in his fist, only to unfold it and try to smooth it on the wood of her dresser. He jerked open the closet door to find all her clothes there, minus a select few.

He was blinded by his rage, his anger, his love for her. He slid all the clothes down the rod before throwing them to the floor, smashing his fist in the full length mirror she had at the end of her closet.

This one time, he would truly respect her wishes without any hidden agenda or secret make up planned. He wouldn't tell her that he took partial credit, wanting to get her pregnant, if only, at the time, it was what he wanted. Her, a family, not always having to convince her to come back to him.

He would go to Oregon for a month, and come back to New York to wait for her return.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, sliding down the wall of her closet, dialing her number, the one he knew so well.

He got her voice mail, which he expected, hoped for.

"Rory," his voice was hoarse, "I love you. I'll be waiting. For both of you," he added. Click.

-------

On a train to Staten Island to rent a small bungalow on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, a young woman stared at her vibrating cell phone, purposely ignoring it. She had done the calculations, the timing, and knew that he had found her letter.

Rory dropped the phone into her lap and smoothed her hands over her stomach, anxiously awaiting the days when she would show.

She had called her mother only hours before, her mother sounding happy, a little weary of her decision and of the father of the baby, but happy, nonetheless.

Her hands shook as she held the cell phone back up to her line of vision.

1 New Message. She tentatively punched in her voice mailbox code and waited to hear his voice.

"Rory," he sounded tired, defeated, "I love you. I'll be waiting. For both of you."

End of Messages.

She looked at the phone, that was it? She purposely took her phone in case something bad happened and someone could have a way to contact her and that's what he said?

When she planned this, she hadn't expected him to want to wait for her.


	13. It’s Still Me, I Never Changed

chapter thirteen

Two months had gone by. Two long, hard months. He had returned to West Coast, two months of bitching reporters and his father hovering over him a little too close for his liking. He had just gotten back to New York yesterday and the first thing he did was go to her, only to find she was still gone.

Her house was left the way it was, very little signs of life. Someone had come to clean, dust, vacuum, the works, but it showed no signs of her living there. No piles of high heels by the door, no half empty cups of coffee by the sink with the rim lined with pearly pink lipstick, no cartons of take out in the fridge. No Rory.

He called her cell phone, like he had done everyday for the past two months, leaving her a message of some sort. November was coming fast and he was becoming worried. He couldn't help but want to find her, despite what she had told him.

She, on the other hand, was beginning to feel refreshed, despite having morning sickness and the regular pregnancy side effects. She missed him, more than she cared to admit, but came to love the peaceful solitude her little bungalow on the coast offered her. She was the only one on this side of the coast and the feeling of loneliness was one she never rejected.

She came to love the small town she lived by the some people she had happened to meet, but she was always comparing them to him, making them dull in comparison.

She talked to her mother often and though Lorelai never told her, Rory knew her mother must be talking to Logan, what with the messages she had been left and the things he had told her.

Yes, the messages. She waited on a baited breath for them, everyday, saving them, relishing the sound of his voice in her ear, as if he were close by.

Even now, when she thought about it, she didn't know why she left. A moment of weakness after he left her, for fear that because this happened, he wouldn't be back. She loved her home, but she hated being left behind. So she went. And now, the thought of going home to face him, his anger, her regret, all of the emotions plus the hormones of a pregnant woman was not something she wanted to deal with.

She sat on the beach, sand between her bare feet, even on a cold, late October day like this one. The sky was gray, the ocean almost black. A blanket wrapped her around shoulders, the phone was clutched in her hands as if it were her final possession.

She put it to her ear with one had, her other hand smoothing over her slightly swollen stomach through her thin t-shirt and fleece jacket, feeling the elastic of her sweatpants.

"Hey, Ror, it's me. Just calling to see how you were today. I heard you were pretty sick the past few days, so call if you need anything. I'm still waiting. I love you." That one came only last week, and she could feel her heart race at the idea of his mere concern for her.

She listened to the next one and the next one, all up until to today. "Rory, we're getting worried. We as in those who don't know where you are. I need you here, I'm…I miss you. Please, call me. I love you. Don't forget your vitamins."

It was added to the end as if she would forget, as if she wasn't coming back at all.

She stood and pulled the blanket even tighter around herself. She figured being outside in the eastern coast cold wouldn't be good for the baby, especially as often as she was out. She had even gone to the doctor nearby when she arrived to confirm that yes, she was pregnant, and yes, both she and the baby were healthy.

She didn't want to know the sex of the baby, not without him there.

She climbed back over the small hill of sand that her home rested on, her small hands resting on her stomach, as if to keep it warm, and she nearly died of fright when she heard someone clearing their throat beside her.

"Mr. Huntzberger…" she trailed off.

"I heard a congratulations was in order," he said matter of factly.

"From who?" she asked.

"Your grandmother. Your mother called her and it slipped out, apparently."

"Great. So why are you here?"

"Well, it was told you were blunt."

"Mr. Huntzberger, I have no reason or desire to be polite to you. After what you said about me and my family was more than enough to make me a complete bitch to you. Second of all, if you came here to disrespect me or my baby, your grandchild, I might add, you can leave the same way you came."

"When Shira was pregnant, I had no idea how hormonal she was," he said, almost inquisitively.

"You'd have to be around to know," she snapped.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and promptly ignored her statement. "Are you going to invite me in?"

She shook her head, "No. You didn't tell me what you want, therefore I don't want you in my home."

"Ms. Gilmore, I assure you, I'm not here to provoke you or anything of the sort, I merely want to talk to you. Besides, you're pregnant, you shouldn't be outside in this cold."

"Were you there for either of your children's births?"

He paused, "I'm afraid I was detained in meetings."

"Then you don't know what the hell you're talking about." She pushed open the front door, leaving him to enter and close it behind her before walking to the small kitchen to put on a pot of tea.

"Logan said you liked coffee."

"I had to give it up for now and I don't like decaf," she said, never stopping her movements at the stove.

"Ah."

She turned around, leaning against the counter. "What do you want?"

"Well, it turns out that my family and I were wrong in our assumptions about you."

She rolled her eyes, "Gee, you think? If that's the generalization you make of every one your son brings home, its no wonder half of Hartford hates you. You insulted all their daughters."

He smiled at her comment and she poured the tea, in two mugs, handing him one and sat down across from him at the table. He had to give this girl credit, not many in her situation or with her past would dare talk to a man as high up on the social totem pole as himself as she was now.

"I came to check up on you. Logan expressed some worries about after a meeting this morning when he was caught zoning out. Since you seem to show no interest in leaving any time soon nor any desire to answer his calls, I took it upon myself to find you."

"I'm sure he loved that."

"He doesn't know."

Her mouth was set in a line. "How is he?"

"Miserable, depressed, only working half-speed."

"Of course, that's what's most important to you."

"Ms. Gilmore, my relationship with my son is in no way related to you." He changed the topic. "Now, I think the question would be how are you?"

"Better than some, worse than others."

"Let's try to be a bit vaguer," he said sarcastically.

"Look, Mr. Huntzberger…"

"Mitchum," he interrupted. "Call me Mitchum. After all, you're technically my daughter-in-law."

"Your what?"

"Anyways," he said, ignoring her, "As you were saying?"

"Mitchum," she emphasized it in annoyance towards his demeanor. "I have no interest in sharing my problems with someone I don't know."

"What sort of problems? Money? Mental?"

She laughed, a loud laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth, "Sorry. That was funny. Um, no to both. I'm more than set with money and my mental state of being is normal to that of a pregnant woman. Sastisfied?"

"Not quite. Are you coming back any time soon? You only have a little less than seven months until you're due. I'm sure Logan would hate you forever if you wouldn't let him be there."

She looked at her hands, "I'll be back before then. I just, I'm not ready."

"He wants to be there."

She looked at him. "You should go. I'm getting tired."

"I need to get back in to the city anyways."

She stood up with him to walk him to the door, "Are you going to tell him where I am?"

"Do you want me to?"

She pulled open the door, shaking her head.

"Tell him to come find me, and I'll be here. Please."

He sighed, "Rory, you know I'm in no position to do that. I can tell him where you are, but it's up to you to do the rest."

She looked past his shoulder, "I know. It was worth a shot. Just leave it be for now."

---------

Mitchum had left a few hours ago and she was in the same position that she had moved to after he left. On the left side of her queen size bed, phone clutched in her hand, almost waiting for him to come to her.

She dialed his number, carefully concentrating on each one so as not to lose her courage by putting to much doubt into her actions.

"Hello?" He sounded distracted, didn't even look at the caller ID.

"Logan," she began.

"Rory? Is that you? Where are you? Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Did you need something?" he asked, his voice still concerned.

She bit her lip; she couldn't even call him anymore without him thinking she needed something from him. It was suitable, she needed him.

"I need you to come to me."

"Rory…" but he only heard dial tone. He held the phone in his hand, wondering if he really just had that conversation or if he had really gone crazy by not having her here. It was a fleeting thought though, because the next thing he knew he was talking to her mother on the phone, trying to convince her to tell him where her daughter was.

In her bed, Rory rolled over, dropping the phone on the floor next to her bed and closed her eyes, praying for both sleep and for him to come quickly to her.

_  
I woke up in white cotton sheets_

_With a glass of champagne in my hand_

_I looked out the window beside me_

_Breathed in the sea and the sand_

_And all felt fine_

_I stood up on a white tile floor_

_Took down my hair and I cried_

_I walked through the arches and on to the shore_

_And let the waves crash for a while_

_And it all felt fine_

_I was the only one_

_Walking on the ocean that night_

_I was the only one_

_Encompassed and kissed by starlight_

_And all the fireflies whispered your name_

_Love, love_

_Dance with me in this moonlight_

_Love, love_

_Don't leave me now it's only midnight_

_He's already gone_

_I laid down in white salty sand_

_In a gown for a party I'd never attend_

_I looked out the vastness before me_

_Picked up my skirt and I ran_

_And the moon was mine_

_I laughed at my foolish pride_

_Got lost in the mist as my tears relied_

_I wish you knew I stilled cared_

_And a lighthouse broke through the night_

_But the moon was mine_

_I was the only one_

_Walking on the ocean that night_

_I was the only one_

_Encompassed and kissed by starlight_

_And all the fireflies whispered your name_

_Love, love_

_Dance with me in this moonlight_

_Love, love_

_Don't leave me now it's only midnight_

_He's already gone_


	14. He Tried To Help Me, You Know

A/N: i know, i suck. i'm really sorry for the delay. it involve (s) stress, a few hospital visits, work, school, crazy friends, etc. ive had most of this written for a while but i didnt really know how to keep going to hopefully it doesnt disappoint, though it is shorrt. i think only one more chapter of this story. enjoy and review.

chapter fourteen

His knocking on the screen door was rapt, hurried. If she was here, he wanted to know. If she was here, he wanted to see her, _now._ He heard the soft padding of slippered feet down a flight of steps and when she slowly pushed open the screen door and stepped out on to the porch, he had to blink twice.

Pregnancy had done wonders for her. Curves, a healthy glow, a sparkle in her eyes he didn't even know was possible. She looked beautiful. Her stomach slightly rounded, shown by a thin black tee and a pair of gray sweatpants.

She didn't say anything as tears were in her eyes, his eyes furrowed in worry.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, not letting her say anything but also letting her know that he was okay, he had forgiven her for anything she may have done.

She pulled back and wiped her eyes, laughing. "Come in." She held open the door for him and he stepped inside, and she followed.

He hadn't said anything, he hadn't really been able to form words. This is where she had been? She chose this run-down bungalow over her home? Being alone instead of being with him?

She led him to the kitchen where some plates from earlier were piled by the sink, the coffee maker sat empty and unused. "So, how have you been?" she asked.

He nodded, "Okay, I guess. My father told me he had come here after I found out where you were."

She pulled out two bottles of water from a fridge. "Yeah, he was here."

"I'm sorry for anything he might have said."

"Oh, no. He was perfectly nice about it all. A little too nice for my liking, but it was fine."

She sat next to him, a long silence between them. There wasn't much noise, other than the steady sound of the waves and wind. It was another dreary day, but she really didn't mind. She liked it.

He cleared his throat, "So, how are you? You look good, healthy."

She blushed, "Yeah, I'm good. Just sort of pulling it all together."

"I could have helped you."

She shook her head, "No, you couldn't have. This is something I had to do for myself. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm actually doing something right and worthwhile with having this baby. Do you know how scary it is to feel that?"

"Yeah, I do. Because that happened to me, too, and then I came to see you only to find you vanished into thin air."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Will you come back?"

She nodded, "Next week. I talked to Paris and everything."

He pursed his lips in thought. "You know that phone call, last week, when you called me?"

"Yeah."

"Why did you call me then?"

"Your father had just left. I realized I shouldn't have shut you out like that but I don't know any better. Everything I do are things I was taught to do. Run, be defensive, sarcastic, strive for a semblance of perfection."

"No one's asking you to do that."

She scoffed, "Please. My whole life revolved around that."

"But it doesn't any more?"

"No, it doesn't. I'm going to focus on raising my child so he or she will be the best they can be, I'll give them everything I have. I'm not going to be at work more than I would be at home with my children. I'm going to be there and I know I'm going to mess up, but frankly, I don't know if its hormones or otherwise, I just don't care, because this child will know that they are loved."

He stared at the table, listening to everything she said. "Move in with me."

"What?"

"Come back next week and move in with me."

"Logan, that's completely different than what we were talking about."

"I know, I know. But, why can't we do this together? I want to be there, Rory, I want to settle down, I _want_ to marry you and have this baby with you and raise ten more."

Tears were brimming in her eyes after he finally, finally said what he had wanted to. "I want that, too. But that would be it. You're either here or you're not. I'm giving you the out if you want it, but if you choose to leave, don't come back. I don't want her to have instability of parental figures in her life. I had it, and I don't want anyone else I know to go through it."

"Rory," he said, scooting his chair over to clasp his hands around her cold, shaking ones. "I don't know how many more ways I can tell you that I want this other than the ones I just did. I want this, I want you, I love you."

"I…I don't know what to say. I mean, this is all too fast. We have to think this through."

"Too fast?" She stood up and paced in front of the stove. "Rory, are you insane? It'll be two years this year. Just, for the love of God, let me in."

She stopped at turned to look at him, but he continued on. "We're having a baby, Rory. A _baby_. Do you want this baby to not know its father when I'm asking, begging you to take me. That baby will never forgive you."

"What do you know about forgiveness with your parents? You're still angry with them for the life they forced you to have."

"Yes, but I talk to my dad, which is more than I can say for you."

"Stop!" she yelled. "This is even the point of the conversation!"

"Rory," he said calmly, pulling her back into her chair. "Marry me, be with me, don't think about it, just do it. You know we're good together, otherwise this whole relationship would have never gotten to this point. And yes, it'll be hard, but I want it, and I know you do, too."

She sighed, letting her eyes wander his face. He looked tired, but his eyes still had that fight in them she noticed the first night. So she let him in. She leaned forward and pressed her lips firmly to his, whispering yes, as he pulled her into his lap.


	15. Epilogue: The Past Can Be Undone

A/N: short, i know. and im sorry it took so long. i have problems with separation and things ending. :-) so anyways, this is very short, but i think it gets the point across. so thank you SO much to all the readers and reviewers. i love you all! this is the first story ive ever finished (that summer is still in progress, almost done) so yay! im excited. :-)

Epilogue!

He slid his hand over her side of the bed, reaching for air. Her sheets were cool, showing that she hadn't been in them for a little while. She had been doing this more and more, getting up in the middle of the night.

He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor beside the bed and pulled them on over his boxers before walking out of their bedroom. He walked down the small hallway of the penthouse to the room they had designated as the nursery, as soon as she was born.

_She_. Shortly after they had come back, Rory nonchalantly mentioned over a Chinese dinner that she wanted to know the sex of the baby, and so they went. Rory had nearly burst into tears when the nurse came in with the news and she had been sitting in here for a while every day since.

He found her sitting in the rocker they had picked out, gently gliding back and forth, her hands placed on her stomach over the short silk nightgown and robe. "Hey," he said softly.

She looked up and smiled at him. "Hey."

He walked to her and nudged her out of her seat, sitting down in her spot so she could situate herself in his lap. "Do you know what I think?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, smoothing his hand over her bulging stomach, showing her being six months pregnant.

"Green."

"Green?"

"We should paint it green. It's prettier than pink, so our little girl won't have to grow up in a bubble gum hell."

He smirked, "If that's what you think is best."

"It is." She nestled deeper against his chest, burying her head in the crook of her neck. "One more week," she said excitedly.

He had proposed properly almost instantaneously upon their arrival back to his flat, giving her a small, perfect diamond ring that he knew she would love. She chose to get married while she was still expecting, opposed to having the baby first, then walking down the aisle. She held her position to that of she wanted to be able to tell her little girl about the wedding, not the other way around.

"One more week," he said softly, kissing her cheek.

And so, amidst the anger and bitterness of their original foundations of a "relationship" they found each other. The good, the bad, everything was accepted with only a small bit of hesitation, needing only a fraction of reassurance and consolation. They were ready, they were together, they were perfect.

Their relationship was no longer a hologram, a mere figment of what may be, what they wanted, but real. Which was more than either of them could have asked for.


End file.
